


Why Do Birds

by a_big_apple



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Flirting, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-03-25
Updated: 2011-03-25
Packaged: 2018-08-09 02:03:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_big_apple/pseuds/a_big_apple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for bob_fish for the prompt "Post-manga Al(/whoever you like), could charm the birds out of the trees" as part of Valentines/White Day at fmagiftexchange.   </p>
<p>Al keeps disappearing, and Ed is getting suspicious.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Why Do Birds

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bob_fish](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bob_fish/gifts).



Ed wasn’t sure exactly when it started. He just had this…feeling, that Al was spending an awful lot of time wandering around Resembool alone. Offering to run errands without Ed or Winry’s help. Leaving Den behind.  
  
Okay, it wasn’t entirely strange that he’d want to walk into the village whenever he could; he was getting stronger, but still had a little way to go before he’d be rid of the crutch. There was just this…casually mysterious aura Al had around him every time he went out, some edge to his innocent smile that was a little too innocent.  
  
Ed tried suspicious looks, and got guileless eyes in return. He tried faux-casual questions, and received answers that, while not exactly vague, still gave him the sense that something was missing. He even tried straight out ranting, which Al answered with fond exasperation and assurances that "no, Brother, there's nothing weird going on, and there's nothing wrong with me, I'm just going to the store."  
  
The final option was what drew Ed into the village after Al one sunny summer afternoon: surveillance.  
  
Al’s first stop was the post office, which also served as the village bank. Ed had set up access to his military retirement account for Alphonse as soon as they returned; there was plenty to live off of, and Ed trusted his brother to be smarter with money than he’d ever been. Still, Ed watched through the dusty window as Al waved to the postmistresses, smiling that brilliant smile and leaving them all flushing in his wake; watched as Al chatted with the teller, a man perhaps a little younger than Mustang, who— _what the fuck!_ —absolutely was watching Al’s ass when he turned to leave with his pockets a few thousand cenz fuller.  
  
Ed scrambled out of sight as Al emerged, peeking from around the corner. He had a panicky moment when he tried to avoid looking at his brother’s rear end, just to see if it was all that, then wound up looking anyway in his confusion, then wanted to claw his eyes out when he was forced to admit that yes, his brother was still too thin, but objectively pretty attractive. He shoved that little bit of information away, locked it in a mental box labeled “PROBABLY SHOULDN’T OPEN THIS EVER,” and scurried after his brother at a reasonable spying distance.  
  
Al’s next stop was the druggist’s. Again, fairly innocuous, though Ed didn’t recall Pinako or Winry asking for any supplies. Going inside was too risky, so once again Ed lingered outside the shop, peering in the window as his brother made a beeline through the shelves and then back to the register. Back to the register with a little rectangular box. A little rectangular box that Ed had passed by more often than strictly necessary, examined when nobody was looking, and never, ever considered actually purchasing.  
  
A little rectangular box of… _condoms?_  
  
Al seemed utterly unconcerned. He grinned at the cashier, an older woman whose face Ed knew but whose name he couldn’t remember; she cocked an eyebrow at him and double-bagged his purchase in paper. Al gave her exact change—as though he’d counted it out, as though he knew exactly how much it would cost already—and headed for the door.  
  
Beth Carter from the other side of the village hurried to the register just after him, and had paid and caught up by the time Al reached the door; he held it open for her with his crutch, and shot her that smile, and Ed was too much in shock to have properly hidden, so he could hear his innocent little brother’s voice quite clearly.  
  
“Beth, you look beautiful today,” he told her, and she ducked her head and folded her hands together in that funny way some girls do, which Ed was only recently beginning to understand. “Are you headed home?”  
  
Beth murmured something indistinct, and Al’s eyes lit. “I’m going that way myself! Would you mind if I walked with you?”  
  
Then Ed’s little brother clapped his hands softly together and touched them to his bag to make a handle, hung it on the grip of the crutch, and offered his free arm to Beth. She took it, and was apparently too busy making doe eyes at Alphonse to notice the little slip of paper that fluttered to the ground behind them.  
  
Ed didn’t notice it either, until it blew up against his boot in a little gust of wind and stuck there. He bent down to grab it, still staring after Al and Beth’s retreating backs, and finally tore his eyes away long enough to read it.  
  
 _Brother—tell Granny not to hold dinner for me. And quit following me around, you look like a moron._  
  
Love,  
Al


End file.
